Stuck in Immortality
by CrazyNerdyFangirl
Summary: Max has died. Or so the Flock thinks. But really, she is just stuck in between life and death. Will she be able to come back? And if she does, will she be the same Max she used to be? Story is better than the summary. I think.
1. Prologue

**AN: I probably shouldn't start a new story when I already have two up. And I can barely update them often as it is. But yeah… I just had this idea in my head for a while. I'm sorry if this chapter sucks, but I usually write in 1****st**** person, not 3****rd**** person. This takes place after MAX. FANG hasn't come out in the U.S. yet. I know this chapter is short-ish, but I just felt that where I stopped was a good place to stop. **

**Disclaimer: I hold no claim to Maximum Ride.**

**Prologue**

_ Dead_ wasn't a word Maximum Ride would use to describe her current state. The word _dead_ was so final, it implied an end. But surely _this_ wasn't the end of her existence. She didn't feel _dead_. She still felt alive. No, the word she would use to describe herself would be "stuck". Stuck in this existence until someone saved her. Max was stuck in limbo. And no, she wasn't stuck trying to walk under a pole without touching it for the rest of her sorry existence. She was stuck between life and death.

"Anyone there?' Her voice was the only sound in the empty darkness. She held her hands in front of her face to try to feel what was in front of her, but she couldn't see her hands. "Anybody?" she called out again. Her usually powerful and commanding voice sounded helpless now. Helpless and alone. Max gritted her teeth and turned in circles, hoping to find a source of light—anything that would mean an end to the darkness. She walked around, and her footsteps were soft as she explored her surroundings. She had always been sneaky and stealthy (how else was one supposed to sneak up on Iggy and Gazzy and steal their bombs from them?), but now, she almost wished she was a loud and clumsy oaf. Just for some sound in the silence that was pressing down on her. The space she was in seemed endless. No matter how far she walked, she couldn't come across a wall, or even a sharp cliff, nothing that would mean that this place had limitations. Max barely noticed that her wounds didn't hurt anymore. They had healed. Her fatal side wound was gone, vanished like it had never been there in the first place.

Suddenly, Max heard some footsteps behind her that were not her own. Loud footsteps, footsteps of someone confident enough to know that they didn't have to be quiet. Someone was approaching her. Max spun around but saw nothing. She must have been imagining it. She put one foot forward. She knew she had to find a way to get out, no matter what. Too many people wanted her alive. They _needed_ her and she couldn't leave them. She knew _he_ needed her. She walked in the dark for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. Time seemed to pass more slowly here, but maybe that was just Max's imagination. After a few more minutes of walking around blindly, she heard the footsteps again. This time, she was sure they were real. She turned wildly, hoping for a glimpse of another human being. It didn't even have to be another human, just another living thing to show her that she wasn't completely alone. Well, maybe _living_ wasn't exactly the right word.

"Hello?" Max called out again, hoping against all hope that someone would answer. But this time, someone _did _answer.

"Maximum Ride," a voice called out from the dark. Max couldn't tell if the voice was female or male, but it was familiar somehow, though she was sure she had never met anyone with a voice like that before. She wasn't able to tell where the voice was coming from. It had seemed to surround her, coming at her from all sides.

"Who are you?" she yelled in a random direction. She didn't expect a reply. Out of all the times she had tried to see if anyone else was here, the voice had only answered once.

Which was why she was almost had a heart attack when someone actually stepped out from the dark. It was a boy, about her age. He had light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He was pale, but not vampire-pale. His full lips and eyelashes made his face handsome. Max was instantly attracted to him for some reason she couldn't explain. She began to walk toward him—she felt an instinct to trust him. But then she stopped moving toward him and mentally scolded herself. She already had Fang. It worried her that she had to _remind_ herself that she already had a boyfriend.

"I'm here to help you, Max," the stranger said. His voice was deep and definitely male, not like the voice she had heard before. She was confused for a moment. The boy and the voice were two different things?

"Who are you?" Max demanded of the stranger. Her usually determined and commanding voice was back. The old, indomitable Max was back. She was no longer lost and helpless. She was determined to get answers out of this stranger.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." This time, the boy sounded like the voice from before. But that was impossible. Nobody could change their voice like that, except for Gazzy. But then, a place between life and death wasn't something that would seem realistic either. Either you were alive or you were dead. You couldn't be in between. Or at least, that was what Max used to think.

Suddenly, Max realized where she had heard the voice before. It was _her_ Voice. The Voice that had helped her so many times in the past and invaded her personal space.

"You're the Voice?" she asked, shocked. Somehow, she had never really imagined that the Voice could really be an actual person. She always thought it was just a _voice._ Without a body. Without a soul. But she was wrong, as she had been many times already today.

The stranger smiled. Max noticed there was a dimple on his right cheek. He had a nice smile, a smile that was infectious. It urged Max to smile with him. But she resisted. She had too many problems to smile.

"Yes, Max. I am the Voice. And I'm here to help you." This time, the boy talked in what Max began to call his "normal" voice. It was the voice he used when he wasn't being _the_ Voice. It was the voice he had used when he had first stepped out of the darkness and spoken to her today.

"How?" Max asked, doubtful that _anyone_ could help her. But this guy was the Voice, and he had helped her before.

He held out his hand to her, wanting her to take it. "I have something to show you, Max," he whispered.

Max stared at the hand skeptically. "Why should I trust you?" she demanded. She had never been good with trusting people before. That was what growing up in a dog crate and being experimented on by evil scientists did to people.

"Because you have nobody else to trust." The stranger's answer was short and simple. Max realized that it was the total truth. Suddenly, she felt very, very alone. Even more alone than when she had first arrived in this place, which made no sense because she _wasn't_ alone now.

Max put her hand in the boy's hand. It was warm and soft. Max didn't know what the boy wanted to show her, but she didn't seem to care about that. All she knew was that she somehow felt safe with this stranger. In a flash of light, both the boy and Max disappeared.

The cloaked figure across the room smiled wickedly. Max had been wrong before. When she had first arrived here, she _hadn't _ been alone. Because someone else had been in the room with her. Someone who loved the darkness more that anyone had a right too. The figure dressed in the dark cloak smiled again. Soon, she would get out of here. She would be able to go back to Earth and kill the ones who had imprisoned her here. She would get revenge. She crushed the blood red tulip she was holding in her right hand. And then, with a puff of smoke, she disappeared too.

Arizona, in front of Dr. Martinez's house

Fang looked down on the unmoving body of the only girl he could ever love. Max. There was a gaping wound in her side that was still oozing blood. Her wings were bent beyond repair. Her body was covered in dark red liquid. Fang barely registered the carnage and destruction around him. He didn't notice the fact that the M-Geeks had gone, and that the Flock was safe again, though without a leader. All he cared about was the girl in front of him. Her beautiful face was pale; she had lost blood because of yet another wound on her forehead.

Fang didn't want to touch her. He knew what that touch would confirm. But he had to make sure, anyway. He desperately hoped his suspicions were wrong. He didn't know how he would live without her.

He put his fingertips on her neck. It was cold to his touch. For a moment, he thought he could feel a pulse, but he knew it was just his imagination, the product of wishful thinking.

Maximum Ride was dead.

Fang wanted to break down and cry right then and there, but he knew he had to keep it together for the flock. He had been Max's second-in-command—he would be the leader now. He wiped away the few tears that had escaped from his eyes. He had to be strong, be emotionless, be a leader. None of the others had noticed that Max had fallen in battle yet. They were too busy examining their own wounds and rejoicing in the fact that the M-Geeks were gone. Little did they know that the M-Geeks had completed the job they had set out to do. The battle had been too chaotic to worry about anything other than keeping your own self alive.

But soon, the Flock would notice. Fang didn't know what would happen then. He stood up and clenched his fists, looking up at the sky, wishing he was flying up there with Max now. He made himself a promise.

One day, he would get his revenge. No matter the cost. He had to avenge Max's death. Even if it was the last thing he did.

**AN: So, do you like it? Or hate it? Please review. Should I keep writing in 3rd person or make it easier on myself and write in 1st person? **

**Bob the Vampire Zombie: Urgh!**

**Me: That's "review" in Zombie Language. **


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: Long time no update… I'm really really sorry. I've been busy with school… and stuff. Okay, I've just been very very lazy. But this is a pretty long chapter, so yay? I've decided to continue this story in third person just for a bit of a challenge. I usually try to avoid third person like the plague, but this story just sounds cooler in third person. I'll be out of town until late Saturday, so no updates until Sunday or Monday. I'll try to write in my notebook while I'm out of town, but there will most likely be no wi-fi where I am. So if I regularly review your story and I don't review for a while, don't get mad at me. Oh, this takes place after MAX. I love writing this story. Fang is so… depressed. Yet hot at the same time… Just to warn you, I didn't like this chapter very much, so you might not either. **

**Disclaimer: Nope. I still don't own Maximum Ride. **

Max was sleeping. It was a peaceful, contented sleep. She didn't know how long she had been sleeping. She knew it had been for a while, but she didn't know exactly how long. It could've been week, months, days, years, or even centuries. She hoped that she hadn't been sleeping for millennia. She just didn't know. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know where she had been before she had been here. She didn't know if she had been anywhere but here—if she had spent all of her existence in this deep sleep.

But worst of all, she didn't know who she was.

The only reason she knew she was human—at least part human—was because of her dreams. She dreamed about anything, but most of her dreams were about her life, or what she thought was her life. They could be made-up fantasies for all she knew. They were just images, no sound. Silent movies depicting her life story. She knew almost everything that had happened in her life, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember her name. Her name always stayed out of her reach. Just when she thought she was close to finding out, the name would evade her, tantalizingly out of reach.

In her dreams, she saw cages, people dressed in white coats. She saw wings—wings attached to her back. That was what puzzled her. There was a part of her—a small, logical part that thought it knew what humans were supposed to look like—that insisted that humans shouldn't have wings. But the larger part of her brain told her that those wings were in fact very, very real.

She couldn't feel any wings on her back. But then, she couldn't feel anything else either. No arms, no legs. No nothing. She could just be a bodiless mass that just happened to be able to think for all she knew.

She continued to see images she couldn't make sense of. After a while, they began getting repetitive. She saw five other kids, also with wings. There was a little blonde girl, no more than eight years old. Her adorable face and white wings reminded Max of an angel. There was a blonde boy with a cowlick too. He looked like the little girl and Max wondered if they were related. There was a girl with mocha skin, who never seemed to stop talking, though Max couldn't make out her words. There was an older boy with strawberry blonde hair. He always seemed to need help from the others, even though he looked completely normal.

And there was _him_. He came up in almost every memory she had. But she didn't know his name either. Max knew instinctively that he was somehow important to her, maybe a brother? He had dark bangs that fell into his eyes. Max knew he wasn't really here with her, but Max had an urge to brush that overlong hair out of his eyes. He had beautiful olive skin and strong muscled arms. But she found she couldn't look away from his eyes. Oh, his beautiful dark eyes that were framed by those long lashes. They were so deep; it was like they could see into her soul.

And suddenly, she saw him leaning over her—dark eyes looking into hers. He bent down, lips touching hers. His lips were warm, and so, so soft. Okay, so he _definitely_ wasn't her brother. Her lips began to move against his instinctively. His dark eyes twinkled and he smiled against her lips. She could lose herself in them. She knew that he had held her hand when she was scared, been her loyal best friend, made her experience feelings she had never felt for any other boy.

And then, the image disappeared. The dark-haired boy was gone. All Max saw was darkness. She had been dreaming for all of the time she had been asleep. She had never seen _nothing_ before, like she was seeing now. Max wanted to wake up from her deep sleep, but couldn't, no matter how hard she tried.

Suddenly, another boy appeared out of nowhere in the darkness. One second, there had been nothing, and the next he was there. He had wavy light brown hair and striking blue eyes. He had a lean, athletic body, not unlike the dark-haired boy. He smiled a warm, welcoming smile that displayed his straight teeth.

Max thought he looked slightly familiar, but she couldn't think of where she had seen him before, and she was frustrated. Even though she was knew it was just a dream, the boy seemed _real_ somehow. Max frowned in her sleep. Who was he?

He extended an arm toward her. "It's time for you to make a choice," he whispered. His eyes looked disappointed, like he didn't want her to make this choice. What the hell? Max nodded, letting him know that she was ready for whatever choice she would have to make. Of course, she wasn't really ready—who was ever ready to make a choice when they didn't even know what they were deciding?—but she instinctively knew that whatever choice she would make would get her out of this sleep.

And she knew she couldn't sleep on forever.

The boy began to tell Max what she wanted to know. He could already guess what choice she would make, of course, but he desperately wished she wouldn't make that choice.

But either way, they would be together.

Dr. Martinez's House

"Fang! Come see what the bomb Iggy and Gazzy made did to the backyard!" Nudge yelled, knocking on Fang's bedroom door frantically. Her cheery voice was a stark contrast to Fang's current bad mood. But then, he was never happy these days. Ever since Max had…died. He preferred to sit in his room, reminiscing about the good times he'd had with her. He didn't talk much, becoming more of an emotionless rock than he had been when she had been alive. He had become like a member of the living dead ever since her death. He didn't feel alive anymore, he was just there.

It was kind of ironic, really. He had even gone depressed and emo, which everyone had thought he was anyway. As much as he hated to admit it, he had even begun to cut himself. He couldn't stop. Physical pain was so much more bearable that emotional pain. At least you could fix physical pain. But when Max had died, his heart had been broken. And that emotional pain was unfixable. At the beginning, it had just been small cuts that didn't mean much. But as time passed and he sank deeper and deeper into his depression, the cutting became more and more frequent and the cuts began to get deeper and larger. As much as he hated to admit it, he became addicted to cutting. He began to feel a sick, twisted pleasure whenever he saw blood pouring out of a self-inflicted wound. The blood seemed to take some of his emotional pain away as it poured out of his body. He knew he would heal faster than a human, so he didn't care much. The pain made him forget about Max—for a few seconds anyway. But those few seconds were bliss. Forgetting about the death of the only girl he had loved—that was the one thing he looked forward to everyday. The time he could get away from everyone and just…think. But those few seconds were over too soon. Far too soon. And then he would to cut again because he didn't want to dwell on thoughts of Max.

He always acted like he was okay around the flock. Though he could never truly replace Max, he was the leader now. They had felt just as hopeless and depressed as he had when they had found out about Max's death. They were without their fearless leader. Their close friend had just been murdered. The few weeks following Max's death were silent. Nobody talked much. It seemed like they had assumed that Max would always be there. But now she was gone. And there was nothing they could do to bring her back.

But none of the other flock members had been in love with Max (because two of them were girls, that would have been just plain _wrong_). None of them had spent a year being in love with her and being rejected by her multiple times. None of them had felt the triumph he had when she had kissed him back that night in the desert. He almost gave a small smile when he thought about it.

The rest of the flock had gotten over Max's death after a while. It had been almost three years, after all. They hadn't fully gotten over it—of course they still missed her—but they had learned to move on, something Fang had yet to do. In fact, he highly doubted he would ever "move on". Oh, he could definitely _act_ like he had moved on. After Max had died, Fang had become a very good actor indeed.

It gave Fang small comfort to know that he _had _ gotten revenge on Mr. Chu and the M-Geeks. A year after Max died, the flock had been able to expose Mr. Chu as a bastard who didn't care about the environment and the negative effects his actions could have on the planet. There had been a huge lawsuit and everything. Mr. Chu had ended up with jail time and a hefty fine. All he M-Geeks had been terminated. When Fang had been working against Mr. Chu, he had felt some purpose, a burning desire to make the man pay for what he did to Max—what he had done to the whole flock.

But now that was over, he had no goal. He existed without a purpose, without a reason for living. And that was the worst kind of existence possible. After the whole mess with Mr. Chu had been sorted out, the flock had come to stay with Dr. Martinez and Ella. They had been happy to take them in, even without Max. And he was grateful for that. He couldn't take care of the flock, not with her gone.

The flock could tell that Fang missed Max more than all of them combined. They had even tried to get Fang to see other girls, insisting that Max would want him to be happy. But he always said no. No girl could make him as happy as Max had.

Nobody knew the full extent of Fang's depression, though. They all had lives of their own. The younger kids—Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel—had wanted to go to school, to live the normal lives they had never been able to have before. Now Nudge was 14 and one of the most popular freshman girls. Angel and Gazzy both had lots of friends as well. And as unbelievable as it may seem, even _Iggy_ had more of a social life than Fang did. He was in a steady relationship with Ella. Whenever he saw them kissing or cuddling on the couch, he always wanted to puke. Yet, he felt a twinge of jealousy as well. He and Max would never have that.

"Come on Fang! Come see!" The knocking on Fang's bedroom door grew more persistent and he sighed. He opened the door and saw Nudge's smiling face. He prepared himself for another day of acting. He should honestly get an Oscar.

Somewhere into between life and death, Maximum Ride began to make her choice.

**AN: I'm so proud of myself! I've finally come up with a plot for this story! Well, sorta… And I like the plot! I don't know if it's been done before or not, though. If it has, I haven't seen anything exactly like it. Oh, and anyone who can think of what I should name the brown-haired dude gets a virtual hug from Bob the Vampire Zombie. Just give me random names and I'll pick one that I like. **

**Bob the Vampire Zombie: Urgh! Urgh! Urgh!**

**Me: Sure…I know what that means…**

**Bob: (shakes head sadly) Urgh.**

**Review? **


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy. I really hope you like this chapter. I think I suck at writing dialogue, but I thought this chapter was pretty good. Thank you to Caris L. Clearwater. I picked one of the names she suggested for the guy in this fanfic. The name just reminds me of Night World, which is one of my favorite book series. This chapter is what the guy told Max and what her choice was supposed to be between and what she picked. She's still sleeping at the beginning of this chapter. Jut to clarify, this takes place after MAX, before FANG.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, though I wish I did.**

"Open your eyes, Max," the boy told Max in a soothing voice. He began walking toward her. Max reached out a hand to touch him, but her hand went through his body without any resistance. It was like he was a ghost. But he seemed so _real. _

The boy smiled, but the smile didn't extend to his eyes. She hadn't realized this before, but his eyes seemed sad, like something had happened to him that he would never get over. So even though his smile was bright, his eyes had a haunted look to them.

"Open your eyes, Max," he whispered again.

Max forced her eyes open sleepily. Her eyelids were heavy, but she finally managed to raise them. She blinked profusely. Everything was so _bright_ here, especially compared to the darkness she had experienced before.

Max looked at her surroundings. She seemed to be in a clearing of trees. She was sitting on some soft grass. She saw a house in the distance. There was dew on the leaves of the trees and Max realized it was the early morning. Sunlight shone down on her, warming her up.

Max saw that the brown-haired boy was standing next to her, looking over at her to see if she was all right. He extended a hand toward her and she grasped it. He was solid this time—her hand didn't go through him.

As soon as her hand came in contact with his, she remembered something that had been in the back of her mind before now. "Max," she said, her voice hoarse from lack of use. She remembered her name. "I'm Max," she said more excitedly. She remembered the names of the other people who had been in her dreams too. The little blonde girl was Angel, her baby. The blonde boy was Gazzy, or the Gasman, Angel's brother. The girl with frizzy dark hair was Nudge, the motormouth. The boy with strawberry-blonde hair was Iggy, the pyromaniac. And the dark haired boy was Fang, the guy she loved. He was her rock, the person she could always depend on. Together, they were the flock.

"You're Max," the boy confirmed with a sad smile. Max vaguely wondered why he was so sad. Shouldn't this be a happy occasion? Max finally knew her identity.

She ran toward a tree, wanting to touch it. She hadn't _felt_ anything in so long. She wanted to feel the tree's rough bark beneath her fingers. She wanted to feel the wetness of the dew on its leaves. She wanted to run her hands over the veins of the green leaves and revel in the fact that she was awake after so long. She reached a hand toward the tree…

And her hand went right through it. It seemed like her hand wasn't even made out of matter.

It was like she was a ghost.

Max narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, confused. She tried again. And again, her hand went through. She was angry now. _Why couldn't she touch the damn tree?_ She swung her fist back, getting ready to punch the tree in anger, but stopped when he realized she wouldn't be able to make contact with the tree anyway.

She looked at her hands—_really_ looked at them—for the first time since she had woken up. She realized that they were paler than hands were supposed to be. In fact, they were almost white.

"What the hell?" she whispered, still staring at her hands.

The boy walked up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Why was _he_ solid when everything else wasn't? Max turned around, looking at the boy's beautiful blue eyes, and felt comforted immediately. Something about this boy made her feel…safe. Like this boy would protect her from any harm that came her way. He leaned in close to her face, his breath on her cheek. His warm hand caressed her face. Max's breath caught in her throat and her heart starting beating erratically.

Was he about to kiss her?

Just when Max thought she was about to be kissed, he pulled away. Max felt cold all of a sudden, though she couldn't figure out why. She had a _boyfriend_. Who she _loved. _She _remembered _him. Of course, he thought she was dead, but that was another problem. Why was she attracted to this other boy too?

The boy looked down at his hands, like he was ashamed that he had gotten so close to her. Max wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him. He looked so weary, so tired, so helpless.

"Where am I?" Max asked softly. She spun around in a circle, taking in her surroundings.

The boy's eyes scrutinized her. "You're in the place where you died," he said. He looked at her, wondering how she would react to this news.

Shock flitted across Max's features for a moment. _I can't be dead, can I?_ Max thought. She felt so alive, the complete opposite of dead.

But then she glanced at her pale hands again. She didn't have hands like that when she was living. In that moment, she realized it. She really _was_ dead.

"How did I…die?" she asked. She had trouble saying the word. She remembered her life, but the details of her death were unclear. She remembered having to move fast, lots of blood, and _pain. _Oh, the unbelievable, agonizing pain. She remembered her whole body feeling like it was on fire. She shook her head. She definitely didn't want to relive that.

The boy came up to her and put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. He was surprised she didn't try to get out of his hold, but she was standing motionlessly, staring down at her feet. "I think the M-Geeks killed you," he told her.

Max nodded. She should've guessed. She stared at a point in the distance. She just stood there, her eyes betraying no emotion.

"Then why don't I feel dead?" she whispered.

"Because you're not really dead," the boy said simply.

Max felt her breathing speed up. She wasn't dead? Max began to feel…something. Hope.

"I—I'm not dead?" Max whispered. She was afraid to hope.

"No," was his only answer. He gave no explanation.

"Why not?" she looked at him, bewildered.

"I don't really know. I suspect the whitecoats did something to you that made it harder for you to die completely. I only know what they told me. They told me to give you this if I ever saw you." He began to look in his pockets for something, but Max stood up suddenly.

"How do you know about the whitecoats? Are you working for them?" Max yelled angrily, demanding answers. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the boy.

"I know about the whitecoats because I know everything about _you. _And no, I'm not working for them. You have to trust them this time. I believe that what they told me to give you will help you. I'm your Voice, I've helped you in the past, right?" he looked at her, willing her to believe him. The anger began to fade out of her eyes. "I have to tell you something, Max. Just listen to me."

Max nodded slowly. The boy pulled something out of his pocket. It was a beautiful opal necklace. It was a brilliant blue that shone brightly in the sunlight shining through the trees. Max dreamily reached out a hand to touch it. It was like she was mesmerized.

But the boy pulled the necklace back before Max's hand could make contact with it. Max was promptly shaken out of her trance. She shook her head. It was like something had taken over her brain that made her have an uncontrollable urge to touch the opal necklace.

"Max, what would you do if I told you there was a way to make you alive again?" the boy asked.

Max only gave the questions a few seconds of thought. Of course she wanted to be alive again! Max nodded vigorously. "There's a way? What? How? Why?" A newfound hope was sparked inside her.

The boy chuckled humorlessly. "Don't get excited yet, Max. You can only go back to life if you're ready to face the consequences."

Max's face fell. Of _course_ there had to be a catch. She _couldn't _just get what she wanted without there being some consequences.

"Tell me," she demanded.

"Well, basically, your soul or spirit or whatever you prefer to call it is here, stuck in between life and death, but your body isn't. The human body is like a shell—it can be killed without your spirit dying." The boy paused and looked at Max to see if she understood. Max nodded. "If you choose to go back, you won't be able to go back to your own body. You'd have to go into somebody else's."

Max's jaw dropped open. "Would the person die?" she asked, horrified. Max didn't care about killing people who wanted to kill her, but killing an innocent human?

The boy looked away for a moment, like he was embarrassed. "You could go into the body of someone in a coma. I've already found a girl who has been in a coma for a while. She's not really even alive anymore. You could occupy her body. But if your presence in her body is the cause of her death, you would have to deal with the guilt."

Max buried her face in her hands. Was she ready to kill someone just so _she_ could live? The girl was in a vegetative state, but still. Suddenly, a realization hit Max with the force of a bowling ball. "I wouldn't have wings," she whispered. She extended her wings and looked at them. They had always been a part of her. They made her different from others, but she loved them. Was she prepared to say goodbye to them forever?

The boy nodded. "You would have to lose them. The girl whose body you would be occupying doesn't have wings."

Max nodded like she understood. She was dazed. She was about to have to make a choice that would determine the rest of her existence.

"There's another side effect too," the boy murmured quietly. Before Max could interrupt him, he blurted, "Immortality."

Max bit her lip in confusion. "Living forever? How is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

The boy shook his head. "You would have to stay the same age forever. You would have to watch the people who know grow up. Watch your loved ones around you die when you live. Would you want that just for another shot at life?"

Before, Max's answer would have been a definite yes. She wanted _life_. She wanted to see the flock—especially Fang—again even if she couldn't fly with them. But was she ready to possibly kill a girl? And face the consequences of living forever? Would it actually be better to move on—to die?

There was a voice at the back of her head (not _the _Voice) that was telling her to go for it. What sane person would turn down this offer? She would get to see everyone she loved. Who would pass this up? The voice was telling her to just say yes and deal with the consequences later. It was so convincing…

"Yes," Max blurted before she could change her mind. The boy gave a sad smile, but didn't tell her she was making a mistake. He handed her the opal necklace. Max grasped it and turned it over in her palm, liking the smoothness of the stone.

"Put the necklace on," he instructed. Max obeyed. Strangely, the stone felt warm against her skin. "Now close your eyes and _concentrate_ on going back." Max nodded and began to close her eyes. But a sudden thought struck her and her eyes fluttered open again.

"How do you know this stuff about me? And who the hell are you anyway?" she demanded.

"My name is James," he said. Max knew it didn't really answer her question, but she decided not to press the matter further. She was anxious to get back to the world of the living.

Max closed her eyes, concentrating on just being _alive_ again. She felt the opal necklace against her skin vibrate minutely. Suddenly, she felt tingly all over. Her skin was heating up, but in a pleasant way.

James saw that Max was beginning to disappear. She was fading away. She was almost transparent now. Just before she disappeared completely, James thought he saw another girl who was holding on to Max's wrist. But the girl was only there for less than a second. James couldn't even distinguish her features. She disappeared just as soon as Max disappeared.

James was confused for a moment. Who was she? But then, he decided that the girl was just a figment of his imagination. There was nobody else in the place in between life and death except for him and Max. Well, just him now. James turned around and began to walk away.

In a hospital in Austin, Texas, a redheaded girl began to wake up from her 5-year coma.

**AN: So, like it? Hate it? Review and tell me! I'm so happy I don't have to call James "the boy" anymore. So, Caris L. Clearwater gets a virtual cookie! **

**Bob the Vampire Zombie: Urgh!**

**Me: JUST GET YOUR OWN DAMN COOKIE! I'M NOT GETTING ONE FOR YOU! (takes calming breath)**

**Bob the Vampire Zombie: (shakes head sadly) Urgh…**

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry for the long wait. I was…busy…and lazy. I didn't even notice that James in my story and James Patterson had the same name until Oh. Glory-Genius pointed it out. Stupid me. That was completely unintentional. Like I said, James reminds me of the first Night World book. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. How wonderful. **

The redheaded girl lay on the hospital bed, completely disoriented. She felt like she had been hit in the head repeatedly by evil little green men with bricks.

It was no surprise that she didn't notice another girl, an almost transparent girl—a ghost, it looked like—release her hold on her wrist and walk through the closed door of the hospital room as easily as if it wasn't even there.

As soon as the girl was through the door, she flicked her long, jet-black hair over her shoulder and smiled a smile that didn't fully reach her eyes. Her emerald green eyes landed on the hospital door that led outside.

Because she knew nobody could see or hear her, she let out a yell of excitement. Soon, she would be back in the real world, getting revenge for the wrongdoings that had been inflicted upon her. She walked toward the door slowly, as if she couldn't really believe that she was back in the world of the living again, after all this time.

Of course, she wasn't truly _alive_, but still.

She paused in front of the door, hesitating before she stepped through it, wondering if she was ready to face the real world. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves even though oxygen wasn't necessary to her survival.

Then she stepped through the door and out into the bright afternoon sunshine.

At Dr. Martinez's House

"Fang?" a quiet voice whispered. Fang looked down to see Angel tugging on his sleeve.

The flock, Dr. Martinez, and Ella were all in the kitchen eating lunch. The hot Arizona sun shone through the windows of the kitchen and Fang knew that if he was outside, he would be baking in the heat. Arizona was not a cool state. Iggy and Ella were at the kitchen table, talking to each other quietly, as if they were the only two people in the room. Fang gritted his teeth. Iggy and Ella looked so happy together, like Fang never would be.

"Fang?" Angel tried to get Fang' attention again. Her blue eyes were looking at him pleadingly.

"Yes, Angel?" Fang tried not to lose his temper with her, but found it hard not to. All he wanted to do was go to his room and sulk, but people kept bothering him. All he wanted was to be left alone.

"Max…" Angel trailed off, looking at her feet as if she was unsure what to say. Fang resisted the urge to punch a wall. Hadn't the flock learned not to mention Max around him? Talking about her would only break the emotional walls he had put up around himself.

"Yes, sweetie?" Fang knew he had to be gentle with Angel. He had taken over Max's role as leader of the flock, and Max had always been gentle with Angel.

Angel bit her lip, still trying to decide whether to tell Fang what she knew she would have to tell him anyway. After five minutes, Fang began to lose his patience with Angel.

Angel suddenly looked at Fang with a newfound resolve in her eyes.

"Max isn't dead, Fang."

Hospital

The redheaded girl heard screaming people. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was joyous screaming—they were excited and happy about something—but she ignored them all.

She felt like she was fighting an inner, invisible battle with herself.

She felt like there were two people, two spirits, two souls fighting for dominance inside her body. One of the souls was new to the body, it had just arrived there and would need time to acclimate to her new surroundings. But the other spirit was weak; it had been dormant for a while.

The two spirits were engaged in a violent battle for control of the body, but the redheaded girl gave no outward sign of her inner turmoil, except for a few twitches.

The new spirit inside her body was stronger and it was slowly but surely overcoming the old one. The other spirit inside the body was fighting back, but barely. It was so, so weak. And what was the point of trying—of living—anymore?

Slowly, the new spirit gained complete control of the body. It felt some guilt as the old spirit became dormant again, but pushed that feeling away almost immediately. She didn't want to dwell on that fact.

The girl began to become aware of her surroundings. She felt a headache, the effects of a body truly becoming alive again after five years.

She began comprehending sound again. This time, she didn't ignore them. She heard words being spoken.

"She's awake!" a voice that sounded female exclaimed.

"What the hell?" a male voice answered her incredulously. "It's been _five_ years. It's next to impossible."

"It's the truth!" the woman countered.

The girl still hadn't opened her eyes, afraid that her senses would get overloaded. She was getting a headache from the mere act of _hearing_, how much worse would that headache get if she was using all five of her senses? Her head began throbbing even more from just thinking about it.

Instead, she decided to spend this time trying to figure out who the heck she was. Having two spirits inside her body at the same time had left her confused, she didn't know which spirit was in control and which one she really was.

There were so many memories and thoughts swirling around her head. And the fact that they came from two completely different people probably didn't help, either. So many memories…the girl began to feel a slight sense of nausea and dizziness. Memories and thoughts of two different people were too much for one lone person to handle. She tried to focus on one memory at a time, to try to make sense of them, but as soon as she tried concentrating on one, it would flit away to be replaced by another one.

"_I choose you, Max," a dark-haired boy whispered to her as his mouth swooped down to kiss hers. She was filled with euphoria and his mouth felt like it fit perfectly on hers. _

She tried to concentrate on it, but another memory soon filled her consciousness.

"_You're gonna pay for that, bitch," a man growled at her menacingly. He was bald and fat and was holding a beer bottle in one hand. He began to approach her and she smelled alcohol on his breath. She wrinkled her nose, disgusted by the stink. The feeling of fear overcame her as she saw his hand swing back to hit her._

Luckily, that memory ended.

_Max, wake up, _a voice in her mind said soothingly. Suddenly, the girl knew who she was. She was Max. Maximum Ride. She was—had been—a mutant bird-kid: 2% bird and 98% human. But now she had come back from the dead (or half dead) to occupy the body of a girl whose name she didn't even know.

She groaned. _What had she gotten herself into?_ she thought.

She decided to be brave and open her eyes. After all, how could one truly be expected to fully appreciate a second chance at life if he or she couldn't even see?

She opened her eyes slowly, reluctantly, and was blinded by the bright light of the hospital room. In fact, everything seemed bright to her. She had, after all, spent 5 years without sight. She blinked a few times, willing her eyes to adjust to the harsh lighting.

She began to see a group of people standing around her hospital bed. The human shapes were blurry at first, but they soon came into focus. She saw a woman with curly, fiery red hair who was wearing a large smile. She saw a man with graying black hair standing next to the woman with an arm around her waist. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that these were her mother and stepfather. Or rather, the mother and stepfather of the girl whose body she was occupying. The old spirit in her body could still give information.

In the back of her mind, Max wondered what had happened to her biological father, but she couldn't find anything about him even when she searched her brain for memories. It was like her brain was trying to suppress any memories she had of him. She wondered why.

The red-haired woman—her mother now, she supposed—was smiling so widely Max was afraid her face would split into two.

"You're awake, Emma!" she exclaimed. Max could see that there were tears in the woman's baby blue eyes. She wrapped her arms around Max's body in a warm loving hug.

And right then, it didn't matter that Max wasn't _really_ the woman's daughter. Because she felt warm, safe, and protected in the woman's hug.

What had she gotten herself into?

**AN: I know, not my best chapter. But review anyway. Please? For those of you who read my other stories, I won't be able to update Friday or Saturday because I will be out of town. Hopefully, I'll have Wi-Fi so I can still read your messages and reviews. **


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: Haha, an update! Finally! I freehanded this, so it's not very good. And it's boring. I'm just going to warn you right now. I'm hoping the next chapter will be less boring. **

Max watched the busy city out of the window of the moving car. Soft music—classical—was playing on the car radio. Max twirled a red curl around her finger. She glared at it disgustedly. _Red _hair? Why did it have to be that color? Her "parents" were sitting in the front seats of the car, sometimes glancing back at her warily.

They were wondering if she had changed—not just physically—when she was in her coma. But she had changed more than they could ever imagine. Max fingered the opal necklace that was tucked under her shirt. The necklace that had helped her come back to life had come back into the living world with her. She didn't know why. But it always gave her comfort when she looked at it or felt it in the palm of her hand. She didn't know why that was either.

It had been a week since she had woken up from her coma. She had spent that week in the hospital, learning how to be alive again. Now her "mother" and "stepfather" were taking her "home".

"So, are you excited to be going back home, Emma?" her mother asked her, looking at her daughter's pale face. For a minute, Max didn't know who she was talking to. Then she remembered. Emma. That was the name of the girl whose body she was occupying. That was who she was now. She had to get used to it.

"Yeah," Max muttered. Then she sighed. If she was going to get used to this new life, she had to stop thinking of herself as _Max_ and as _Emma_ instead. But since she planned on busting out and finding the flock as soon as possible, what was the point?

Her mom looked at her with a disappointed look on her face. Apparently, Emma had been talkative because her mom—no, Max's mom—always expected her to give long, detailed answers to questions. Too bad Max wouldn't. Well, her mother would have to start getting used to the new "Emma".

Max shut her eyes, feeling a headache overcome her. She had almost settled into this new body, but sometimes, the old spirit would try to fight Max or the body didn't seem like it _fit_ somehow. Max would always get headaches during these times.

Suddenly, the car stopped. Max opened her eyes. Before her stood an ordinary suburban house. It was identical to her houses surrounding it. It was nothing special—brownish-red bricks and neatly trimmed hedges.

"Well, we're here," her mom said brightly. She noticed her stepfather hadn't said anything the whole car ride. Maybe he just wasn't talkative. Kind of like Fang. Thinking about Fang made her heart ache. She wanted to see him—see the whole flock again. But she couldn't just _fly_ away like she would have in the past. She didn't have wings now. She would have to run away like any other normal teenager. And she didn't have the strength yet. Her muscles had been out of use for years. She wasn't exactly in shape.

Sometimes, Max would try to move the muscles in her shoulder and back that would control her wings only to realize that they weren't there. Poof. Nonexistent. Like her former identity. The flock thought she was dead. Heck, she might as _well_ have been dead. It wasn't like she could get to them anytime soon. And the pain of not having wings was one of the things that hurt the most. She would never soar with the birds again, feel the exhilaration of flying faster than the rest of her flock. No, she was completely human now. Human. She had never used to think that word would ever describe her.

When Max had found out that that had been in a coma for 5 years, she had freaked out. The time she had spent in that place between life and death had seemed so short. The girl whose body she was occupying was 17, the same age Max would be if she was still alive. So she guessed she had to at least be grateful for that. At least she hadn't been put in the body of an aging old lady or a toddler. Emma had been in a coma ever since she was 12 years old. So far, nobody had yet told Max what had caused the coma, and she didn't know herself. Whenever she asked her parents or the doctors, they would just look at her like something was wrong with her. Maybe they'd assume that she'd remember, but she didn't. The doctors thought that maybe her brain had decided to forget the memory. So nobody had told her.

She stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Her stepfather opened the front door of the house and held it open for Max to walk through. "Welcome home," he said. Max just nodded. Then she stepped through the door of the house and into her new life.

* * *

Fang sat on the bed, papers scattered all around him. He was currently reading one of the papers. It was written in legal language, so it made almost no sense to Fang. He cursed. He was the only one awake, the only one willing to go through this crap in hopes of finding Max. The others had gone to bed, tired, after spending a whole day of going through the huge stack of papers.

Fang had asked Jeb for some papers that he had gotten from the School when he was still working for it. Fang didn't completely trust Jeb, but Angel had talked him into it, insisting that Max wasn't dead. She said it was just a feeling she'd had. She didn't know where Max was or if she was hurt or not, but Angel swore on her own life that Max was still alive. Jeb had been happy to help, wanting to win back the Flock's trust.

So Fang and the rest of the Flock had been sifting through these papers for a week, hoping for some clue as to what had happened to Max, if the School had taken her somehow or not. Granted, these papers weren't recent, but they could help. The rest of the flock—except for Angel—didn't really believe that Max was still alive, but Fang wanted to hold on to any hope of getting her back.

Suddenly, he saw a folder that caught his eye. It had the words "Project Immortal" written across it in bolded capital letters. He picked it up, curious. He opened the folder and papers spilled out. He picked one up and began to read.

**AN: I am so sorry that was so short and probably not good, especially since I haven't updated in so long. I'm sorry about the boringness, too. The next chapter will be better! (hopefully…) Review? **


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: So here's where the story takes a turn for the supernatural-ish. Well, not really supernatural. More like not based on scientific fact at all. I don't mind if you give up on this story because of that. This chapter is mostly an explanation of Project Immortal. Could get very boring. **

The words on the page made Fang widen his eyes as he read them.

Fang didn't show surprise much, so anyone could tell that whatever Fang was reading had shocked him. Fang read the words on the page over and over again, not really comprehending them. He tried to tell himself that these were just words—that they might not even be true. They could have been put on the page just to trick him, to throw him off track. But deep inside, he knew that what he was seeing were the facts.

But there was some consolation. Max was still alive.

Project Immortal

Fang stared at the title for a bit. Then he went in search of another folder. After shuffling through a thick stack of the manila folders, Fang finally found what he was looking for. It was an ordinary-looking manila folder. Except for the fact that somebody had scrawled "Maximum Ride" in messy handwriting across the front. Fang opened the folder and an uncountable number of papers fluttered out. The papers gave details about everything about Max. Her height, age, hair color, eye color, personality, and uncountable other traits.

Fang looked through the papers until he found the one he had been looking for. The page had a series of numbers dominating the first half of it. But at the bottom were a few sentences. _Third experiment to have Project Immortal implemented upon. Injection given on October 9, 2000. Success not determinable. Lab 141. To be terminated shortly. Made with experiment 146 (fourth immortal experiment). Experiment 146 also avian-human. _

One part of that paragraph repeated itself in Fang's head continuously. _To be terminated_. Angel had been right. Max wasn't dead. The School had killed her, but it was just for an experiment. Fang gritted his teeth. They always treated the whole flock as just one big experiment, not as living things.

Fang read over the information on Project Immortal again.

Project Immortal was something one of the whitecoats had thought of when they were trying to design an experiment that could be used as the perfect weapon. Fang had learned that from the notes in the manila folder. Instead of making an experiment strong, powerful, or smart, why not make it so that it would be impossible for him or her to die? There were countless pages of notes that had been made—research that had been done on the subject of immortality. Some scientists thought this was futile. The concept of living forever only existed in fiction, though with today's medicines, a person's life could be prolonged tremendously compared to a couple of hundred years ago. Even though most of the scientists were at best skeptical (and at worst, they totally and completely dismissed the idea), there was a dedicated group of scientists who believed they could make this work, no matter how hard it was.

And finally, they had caught their lucky break. One of the whitecoats had proposed the idea of talking to people who had near-death experiences—people who had been on the brink of dying but had been saved just in time. So that small group of scientists decided to seek them out and ask them about their experience. Fang read over their notes.

Amy Worthington had been in a car accident. The paramedics who had been at the scene had thought that they would lose her. But she had fought against her death and had come out alive. When the whitecoats had talked to her (they were nice, they hadn't tried to force anything out of her), she had said that the common belief of the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't what she had experienced. Instead, she had found herself in total darkness. It seemed like she was walking around aimlessly in a dark room. She had no idea where she was, but she could think fairly clearly. She felt alive, but somehow knew she wasn't. She didn't feel dead. She was just…there. And the strangest thing was, she felt almost stuck there. Like she was in between life and death and couldn't get out.

But then the doctors at the hospital had saved her and she had come back. That was what she had said anyway. The whitecoats knew she could have been lying.

But Jake Nguyen had told a similar story. He had found himself in a dark room with no idea of his whereabouts. And it was like he…couldn't remember who he was. Like someone had robbed him of his identity.

Many others across the world had basically told the same story.

So the whitecoats began to devise a plan. If they could come up with some sort of chemical that, when consumed or injected by one of their experiments, would take him or her to that place between life and death—which by now they had dubbed "Limbo" (calling it "the place between life and death" would take too long)—then the experiment could never truly die, right?

The scientists—after many long, tiring months—made a chemical that, when injected into an experiment, would take it to Limbo when it died. They had tested it on some lab rats. After the chemical had been injected into them, the scientists had killed them.

But the rats had never died. Their hearts were still beating and their brains were still working, but they didn't respond to outside stimuli. It was like they were in comas. Of course, there was no irrefutable evidence that this had worked and that they weren't _just_ in comas. But there was no evidence that it _hadn't_ worked either. So they concluded that it had worked. Most people wouldn't want to risk ending innocent lives on so little evidence, but the whitecoats didn't care. Their experiments were just _experiments_ to them, nothing more.

But now they were faced with a different problem. Their experiments would be stuck in between life and death, with no way to come back. That was when they decided to interview some more people with near-death experiences. They had found out that most of them claimed that before they had come back to life, they had seen an object in front of them. It could be anything—each person had a different object. One person said the object was a coin, while another one said that it was a shiny charm bracelet. But whenever they touched the object, they were jolted back into life. The scientists were perplexed. What were the objects? And did touching them bring the person out of Limbo?

With further research, they had found out that each person's unique object had to do with their birth. The person who had the coin as their object had parents who were obsessed with making more money and had gone to an expensive hospital. The person with the charm bracelet had a mother who always wore one.

It was only fitting that something that had to do with one's birth would bring that person back to life.

The scientists believed that the object wouldn't naturally come to any experiment that they made who was stuck in limbo. The objects had appeared to everyone else because they had come to Limbo naturally. Being stuck in Limbo was a natural thing when you were on the verge of death. But because the experiments had a chemical injected into them, their state of limbo would not be natural, meaning the object would have to be brought or given to them somehow.

So they decided to make experiments in pairs. Both would have the chemical injected into them. One of the experiments in the pair would be killed. He or she would go into Limbo and bring an object with him into that place between life and death. From speaking with yet even more people who had almost died, the whitecoats had found out that people who had gone into Limbo could make almost anything materialize there if they tried hard enough. Of course, only one or two had tried this—the others hadn't tried because they hadn't known something like that could work. So the whitecoats had hooked the experiment to be killed up to a machine that would project the image of an object in his mind.

Then they would kill the experiment.

They were just _experiments,_ after all.

Theoretically, that experiment would go into Limbo. Then, when the other experiment in the pair died and went there as well, the first experiment would give the first one the object. This was where Fang got a bit confused—everything was written in scientific language. But Fang could make out that there was some sort of bond between the two experiments. So when one came back into the living world, the other came too.

They couldn't very well go back to their own bodies. Those bodies were dead. But the whitecoats created new bodies for them—empty shells their spirits could occupy when they came back. The spirits would already know how to fight and wouldn't have to be re-taught, which could waste time and money. They would already know things new experiments wouldn't. And that could make them very valuable weapons. Of course, the whitecoats could always use robots, but they could malfunction and were sometimes unpredictable.

The experiments could have a second shot at life. And because going into Limbo changed their spirits somehow, the scientists added another chemical to the initial injection. This would enable their bodies to sustain them forever when they came back. They would never grow old.

Immortal.

And if they were honest with themselves, the scientists really just wanted to find a way for them to live forever. They didn't care about the experiments. Just themselves.

Fang looked at the files for himself and the rest of the flock. They weren't Immortal experiments.

Fang looked at the folder dedicated to Max. Apparently, Max's mom had worked on the early stages of the avian-human hybrid project. She had always used to wear an opal necklace. The whitecoats believed that this object could trigger Max's coming back to life. She had been paired up with "Experiment 146", who was the fourth immortal experiment. That experiment had also had wings. Fang couldn't say he was very surprised. It made sense that the experiment who was partnered up with Max would have the same genetic mutation she had. Experiment 146 had been the one to get killed. Thank goodness it hadn't been Max.

Everything that Fang had just read over was all theory. It had never been proven. Fang was angry that the whitecoats had been willing to end lives based on a mere _very doubtful _theory, but he wasn't surprised. They had put _bird DNA_ in him after all.

They had tested their theory once, with "Experiment 102" and "Experiment 103". But the information was outdated and didn't give the outcome of that particular experiment—and it was an experiment he _really_ wanted to see the outcome of. It could mean life or death for Max.

There was the _slimmest_ chance that Max was still alive but in someone else's body. Fang knew he would still love her even if she looked different.

That small chance filled Fang with hope.

And for the first time in a long while, he didn't take out his blade that night.

* * *

James was standing in Max's bedroom, looking at her sleeping form. The fact that he was in a girl's _bedroom_ didn't have any effect on him. He didn't know the implications of that one little fact. After all, he had been living in Limbo for quite a while.

In those years spent in between life and death, James would occasionally get visions of Max. What she was doing right then, what was going on in her life… There was some sort of _connection _between them. So James had watched Max grow up and knew everything about her. But she didn't know a thing about him.

The scientists had told him what would happen, even though he had been too young to understand. They had told him that his spirit would be transported into a body waiting for him back at the School.

But that hadn't happened.

Instead, his spirit had gone into a stranger's body, and he had found himself at the site of a car crash with wailing police sirens blaring around him. He had a broken leg, bruised ribs, and a bleeding head wound. He was disoriented because he hadn't been alive for _years._ Some people—in all the confusion, he couldn't remember who—had brought him to the hospital. As soon as James had gotten well, he had left the hospital, glad to leave the antiseptic smell behind.

James had been lucky enough to be put into a body that didn't look too different from his old one. But the eyes were different. Instead of blue, they were hazel.

He had wandered aimlessly for days, not knowing where to go. His new form didn't have wings, and he had never flown before and didn't know how anyway. So he had just gone wherever his legs took him. He wasn't consciously controlling his movements. And they had led him here, to Max. It was like there was some sort of internal compass that led him to her. Some bond shared between them that _compelled _him to come to her. He had known it was her because of some sort of golden glow emanating from her body—visible to him and no one else.

She looked different now, no doubt, but he knew she was still Max inside. His Max. Even though she loved someone else. And he vowed he would always protect her from harm.

He looked at the red curls that framed her beautiful face. She turned to her side on the bed and mumbled something in her sleep. It was only a soft whisper. James couldn't make out what she had said.

He walked over to her sleeping body and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. She didn't stir.

"Sweet dreams, Max," he whispered.

**AN: I don't know if my explanation makes sense at all. Please tell me. I laughed every time I typed "Limbo". You know that annoying limbo song? Well, now it's stuck in my head. Joyous. I know James sounds like Dylan; that was an accident. But their personalities are kind of different. And the whitecoats didn't make James for the purpose of being Max's perfect other half—they made him so that they could have immortal weapons. A love triangle is starting and I have no clue who Max is going to end up with. **

**Review?**


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